Page 2 of Bound By Threads
The pig’s blood swirls down the drain, and I scrub at my skin furiously, desperate to erase every trace of their cruelty for today. But somehow, the memory clings to me worse than the blood ever has, every time they’ve played a cruel joke on me, and how their faces twist into laughter as I stand there mortified by falling for it yet again.
After rinsing my hair three more times, and my skin is red and raw, I emerge from the shower, free from the stickiness. I wrap myself in a towel and stand for a moment, listening to the steady drop of water into the drain.
Thankfully, I’ve learned to keep spare clothes at school since the last time I was caught without ending with me being sent home, soaked in soda, to two very pissed-off high parents.
There’s no sound on the other side of the door after I’ve changed into fresh clothes, and I do my best to towel dry my hair. Anything is better than the sticky red blood that was soaked into it. I hesitate, not wanting to leave the solitude of the changing room, but I know I need to finish the day. Not all my teachers understand when I turn up to class late.
I brace myself,my hand glued to the handle as I hesitate to open the door, knowing that any torment they’ve done so far isn’t over.
I step out, hold my breath, and let it out when I see that no one is in the hallway. The corridors back to class are mostly empty now. Only a few sniggering classmates are lingering by the lockers.
I clutch my backpack tightly as if it can shield me from them all.
Laughter echoes through the door for English, and my heart sinks as I recognize the voices.
Roman, Crew, and Elijah.
Their laughter somehow always sounds cruel, cutting through their victims like sliced meat, a melody I’m all too familiar with.
I pause for a moment outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The door feels heavier than usual, and I push it open as quietly as possible, praying I can sneak in unnoticed.
The teacher glances up, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern, as she glances at my wet hair. I hand her a note apologizing for being late. She nods, gesturing for me to take my seat.
I can feel Roman’s eyes on me immediately, and it takes all of my willpower not to flick my eyes in his direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his smirk. Crew leans back in his chair, whispering something to Elijah, who merely nods, a sinister smile on his lips.
I shudder, hating the memories that come with that smile — the same smile that fooled me once upon a time.
I focus on the teacher, determined to ignore them, but their presence is suffocating—a dark cloud that seems to follow me around every corner.
The lesson drags on, and I do my best to concentrate, scribbling notes and avoiding eye contact.
My eyes drift to the outside, watching a bird soar above the trees, and I sigh. The bell finally rings, and I pack up as quickly as I can, eager to escape them. But luck isn’t on my side. It never is, as Roman steps in front of me, blocking my path.
His smile is sharp and predatory, and I brace myself for whatever they are about to throw at me.
“See you tomorrow, Reyes,” he sneers, leaning in too close for comfort. “Making your life hell is my favorite part of the day.”
I hold my ground, refusing to show any fear, and push past the three of them, my heart pounding in my chest.
“See you tomorrow, Piglet!” Crew calls out after me, but I ignore them, rushing past the other classmates to catch my bus.
Chapter2
Scarlett
The bus ride home becomes a blur. Anxiety and dread swirl in my gut the closer I get.
My mind, a captive to the dark thoughts that consume me, fixates on what I’m going to walk into when I get there.
Will I walk into them both passed out on the sofa again? Or will it be to blood sprayed on the walls as their fists do the talking for them?
I sink further into my seat with a weary sigh.
I’m tired.
The constant anxiety that looms over me, the depression pulling me down into the abyss, because is this really a life worth living when I have no real sanctuary that I can escape to?
Home — funny word when it hasn’t felt like it since I was a child — is no longer safe to be in, though I have no choice since I’m not eighteen yet. The school was once a place I would happily escape to, my three friends my solace, as Mom and Dad started getting into shady things.
